


Formal Humiliation

by OneBizarreKai



Category: Undertale (Fandom), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (basically because it's just easier to write), Characters are portrayed as human, Cross has social anxiety, Cross works for Nightmare, I don't have a problem I swear, Killer is an asshole, M/M, NOW WITH A PART TWO, RETURN OF CRIGHTMOSS, Short Story, featuring the local douchebag Killer and local angry guardian Dream, not Dreamswap for once, now with a part three featuring an alternate outcome with killercross, oh look another story with a party and dancing, oh yeah cross swears a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-05-19 19:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneBizarreKai/pseuds/OneBizarreKai
Summary: Nightmare stopped in front of him, holding his hand out.“Give me this dance,” he said. It almost felt like an order.At this point, so many people were watching that it would be impossible to say no without making everything even worse.“… god, okay, I’ll try,” Cross mumbled, taking his hand. “I feel like I’m dying inside.”“Oh, I know,” Nightmare said, smirking. “I know.”





	1. Formal Humiliation

Cross never took Nightmare for the festive type.  
  
After some miraculous course of events, most of which Cross did not fully understand, a party happened, and it was taking place directly in the entrance hall of Nightmare’s castle. But it wasn’t just any party, no–it was full on formal, full on hoity-toity to the extreme.  
  
Elegant music was nearly drowned out by the sheer number of people filling the hall, who were doing a variety of uninteresting and ordinary formal party things. Cross was surprised that so many people even came–Nightmare never struck him as a popular type, but what did he know? Perhaps Nightmare’s title as ‘king of darkness’ or whatever other title he came up with that day wasn’t simply self-proclaimed after all.  
  
Cross would admit, however. A large number of these people seemed to give off an air of suspicion or even sheer villainy, comedic or not. Granted, it was natural, seeing as how they appeared to be subjects of Nightmare, who was, of course, basically the king of darkness.  
  
Cross was standing up on a high balcony, observing the event. There was nothing interesting happening that made him want to stay, yet, he did.  
  
His gaze was glued to his so-called lord, Nightmare himself, who was smoothly chatting with some less than important people in his eyes. Nightmare was dressed appropriately for the event, looking prim and proper in a fancy tux.  
  
Cross was also wearing one. After all, Nightmare surprisingly adamantly required Cross to be there, or in the very least to observe. It had something to do with Cross’s inability to communicate or control his emotions, or something… at least that’s what Nightmare said.  
  
As the people started to pile in only about an hour earlier, Cross immediately retreated to the balcony, feeling what could have been best described as raw anxiety. There was no way he could do that.  
  
But now, as he was sitting so far up from everyone else, he felt so isolated… no, more particularly, so far away from Nightmare.  
  
He almost wished his smaller lord was by his side up there, but at the same time, that was a horrible idea. Who was he kidding? There his mind went, wishing for stupid, impossible _and_ implausible things.  
  
Cross’s eyes narrowed slightly as the mood of the party changed. The live orchestra started to play dance music, and people were starting to dance.  
  
A somewhat young girl emerged from the group that Nightmare was talking to, and while Cross could not hear the exchange in the slightest, he knew exactly what was happening when Nightmare’s hand extended out and the girl took it. Cross almost grimaced, turning away.  
  
He snapped out of his bitter trance as a familiar voice hit his ears. “Heyyy, Crossy boy,” the annoying sound of Killer’s voice chirped up as he entered the balcony.  
  
“Don’t call me that,” Cross mumbled, heaving a sigh as he leaned into his hand.  
  
“Check it. I just took like three plates full of food from the refreshments table,” Killer said, plopping down next to Cross on the cushioned circular bench and putting his prized food next to himself. “This stuff is the shit.”  
  
Cross grunted, putting his chin on the balcony railing as his gaze drifted across the room, looking for Nightmare and his current dance partner again.  
  
“Something bothering you, X-man?” Killer asked, his mouth full of food already. Cross didn’t answer. “What, is it your crippling social anxiety? Poor bean.”  
  
“No, fuck off,” Cross mumbled.  
  
Killer turned around, looking for the general direction that Cross was facing. Noticing how the monochromatic one’s eyes were following Nightmare and his nondescript partner, a grin spread on his face.  
  
“Oh,” he started. “Ohhhh. Having an X-istential crisis? Is someone a little jealous about his lord and master being danced with?”  
  
“He’s not my fucking master,” Cross grumbled, lifting his arms up and resting his head on them.  
  
“Didn’t deny the other parts,” Killer stated, throwing a cracker with an excessive amount of cheese on it in his face. “Man, relax. I won’t judge your little schoolgirl crush.”  
  
“I don’t have a crush on him,” Cross declared. He paused, his gaze returning to Nightmare, who was skillfully leading his partner. He heaved a sigh. “No. No I don’t.”  
  
“You don’t sound very sure,” Killer cooed, a singsong tone in his voice. The smirk on his face persisted, and Cross jolted as Killer put a hand on his shoulder and pointed to Nightmare’s partner with his other hand. “You wish that was you, don’t you?”  
  
“No! I can’t even dance!” Cross told him, trying to push his hand off, but Killer had a vice grip on him. “I… I would humiliate myself, anyway!”  
  
“Then I ought to teach you, shouldn’t I?” Killer asked. He rose to his feet, holding his arms out. “C’mon, Crossy boy.”  
  
“How the fuck do you even know how to dance?” Cross asked, turning in his seat and furrowing his brow.  
  
“Is that really a question you want an answer to?” Killer asked him.  
  
“On second thought, I actually don’t care,” Cross replied, turning away again. “I don’t need your help. You’re jumping to stupid conclusions.”  
  
“Are you suuuure?” Killer asked. “I’m gonna tell him, Cross. I’m gonna tell him you want to dance with him.”  
  
Cross whirled around and jumped to his feet, grabbing Killer by his suit jacket. “No you fucking won’t,” he hissed.  
  
“I mean, regardless of what I teach you I’m gonna tell him, so I’d recommend preparing yourself accordingly,” Killer told him, shrugging. “But in the end, it’s all up to you!”  
  
“You’re not going to tell him anything!” Cross growled. “Nightmare would literally kill me if you even suggested it!”  
  
“Oh please,” Killer said with a laugh, patting Cross’s hands, which were still clutching at him. “Nightmare is actually more mellow than you realize. He likes to make people think that he’s ready to kill them at all times, but if that were the case, he’d do it way more often.”  
  
Cross let go of him, letting out a huff of air. “Whatever. My point still stands. You aren’t doing shit.”  
  
Killer gave him a poke on the shoulder. “But I think I am,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”  
  
“My pride dented for the rest of my life, maybe?” Cross suggested bitterly. “I don’t even see him like that and you’re being an obnoxious asshole. I just… admire him, okay. If that makes you shut up.”  
  
“Admire?” Killer asked. “Then why are you watching him with all this blatant jealousy? Nightmare can probably feel it from way down there.”  
  
Cross collapsed backwards onto the bench again. “God, just leave me alone,” he grumbled.  
  
“Oh, Cross,” Killer said with a sigh. “It’s not good to ignore your feelings, because things just end up pent up. Also, keep your hand out of my food, dick.”  
  
“Sure, because you’re going to eat three plates full of food, you fucking waste,” Cross told him, shoving three slices of cheese in his mouth at once.  
  
“They make way too much and throw away the leftovers anyway,” Killer told him, snatching up his plates. “And you’re calling me a waste? Whatevs. I’m gonna go find a random insecure college student to scare into dancing with me.” He started to walk away, but turned his head briefly. “By the way, I’m pretty sure they just brought out a chocolate fountain, so–”  
  
Cross jumped to his feet. “Out of my way. Out of my fucking way,” he demanded, pushing Killer out of the way and practically running down the stairs that led back down to the floor.  
  
Killer rolled his eyes, following him.  
  
The moment Cross reached the bottom of the stairs and he pushed the door open, he could already feel regret creeping up on him. God, there were so many people–no, he was fine. He could handle this.  
  
He rather aggressively stormed into the crowd, making his way over to the refreshments table, glancing over his shoulder here and there to make sure Nightmare wasn’t giving him any looks already.  
  
… like he would be even looking at him to begin with, he had better things to attend to.  
  
Cross was hanging out by the table by then, glancing up sporadically for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. The song ended, and he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, making him jump in the air.  
  
“Psst,” Killer started, getting an irritated groan out of Cross. “Now’s your chance, Cross.”  
  
“I said leave me alone,” Cross uttered, trying to not draw attention to himself.  
  
“Welp, guess it’s time for me to play matchmaker,” Killer said, grinning. He teleported to the other side of the table, bee-lining towards Nightmare.  
  
“No, no, no!” Cross exclaimed, worry increasing with every repeat. He ran around to the other side to follow him, but seeing Killer already trying to get Nightmare’s attention, he backed off.  
  
He was so screwed.  
  
Nightmare’s eyes met Killer’s, and it wasn’t long before Killer started whispering things in his ear. Nightmare’s gaze rose, suddenly looking at Cross, who turned away, immediately planning to run and hide.  
  
A smile rose on Nightmare’s face.  
  
“Cross,” he started.  
  
The monochromatic one froze in place.  
  
“Is there something you would like to ask me?” he asked.  
  
Cross took a deep breath, spinning around. His face was hot, and he was fairly certain that purple was starting to show on it. “Nightmare, there’s a huge misunderstanding, Killer is just trying to humiliate me!”  
  
“Oh really?” Nightmare asked. “That’s unfortunate. I was going to wholeheartedly accept, but I guess you don’t want it that badly. After all, there are so many other people who are prying for my attention right now…”  
  
Cross stiffened up. He looked away. “N-Nightmare, I can’t dance.”  
  
Nightmare was walking towards him now. “Oh, please. You have the easy part.” The hall was starting to get quieter as more and more people noticed what was happening and were beginning to observe.  
  
Nightmare stopped in front of him, holding his hand out.  
  
“Give me this dance,” he said. It almost felt like an order.  
  
At this point, so many people were watching that it would be impossible to say no without making everything even worse.  
  
“… god, okay, I’ll try,” Cross mumbled, taking his hand. “I feel like I’m dying inside.”  
  
“Oh, I know,” Nightmare said, smirking. “I know.”  
  
He forcefully pulled Cross closer to him, evidently enjoying this already. He put his arm around him, holding him way closer than one normally would in a dance.  
  
Nightmare was extremely close and Cross felt his face grow even hotter.  
  
“Put your right hand on my shoulder,” Nightmare told him. Cross did as he said, trying desperately to ignore the eyes of everyone around them.  
  
“A…Are you doing this on purpose?” Cross asked.  
  
“Maybe,” Nightmare answered, a chuckle escaping from him. Cross felt his heart jump as it hit his ears.  
  
“So… so are you trying to embarrass me or what?”  
  
“Oh, you’re mistaken,” Nightmare told him. “After all, you’re the one who wants it.”  
  
“ _Dammit_ ,” Cross thought. “ _That’s not even fair._ ”  
  
“Now just step with the music, and follow my lead,” Nightmare said under his breath, grasping Cross’s left hand with his right. Cross gasped a little as Nightmare pulled him into a step, the area clearing around them. “Come on, don’t make this difficult.”  
  
“I-I’m not trying,” Cross insisted.  
  
“Just sync your movements with mine. It’s not hard,” Nightmare told him. Cross nervously looked down at their feet. Nightmare sighed. “Listen to the music, Cross.”  
  
Maybe he should’ve practiced with Killer after all…  
  
They both went silent, Cross taking his time trying to figure out what to do. Focus on the music drowned out everything around them, all of it turning to white noise as the one directly in front of him claimed all his attention. It took a while, but Cross figured it out.  
  
“Cross,” Nightmare started, startling Cross out of his excessively focused trance.  
  
“Y-yes?” Cross asked.  
  
“Is there something we need to discuss?”  
  
Cross blinked. “Uh… what?”  
  
“You seem to have something you want to tell me,” Nightmare affirmed. “By all means. Please do.”  
  
Cross forgot how to look Nightmare in the eyes. “It’s… not important,” he said. “Really not important.”  
  
“Seems fairly important to you, now isn’t it?” Nightmare told him. “Tell me, I dare you.”  
  
Cross could feel his heart pounding obnoxiously. Nightmare seemed to be presenting it as more of a demand, and Cross could hardly find it in himself to go against his will.  
  
“… I see you in ways that I probably shouldn’t,” he choked out.  
  
“Do elaborate?” Nightmare suggested.  
  
“… I… I like you,” he managed to say. “Too much.”  
  
Nightmare smirked.  
  
“I know,” he said.  
  
“Wh-what?” Cross stuttered.  
  
His fingers dug into Cross’s back a bit more, pulling him even closer. “Why would I agree to dance with you if I didn’t know?” he asked.  
  
Cross wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. The purple on his face simply grew even darker, his body growing hyper aware of Nightmare’s touch. He couldn’t make eye contact with Nightmare a mere moment ago–now, his gaze was affixed to the bright cyan eyes of the one leading him and he couldn’t tear it away.  
  
“You know, Cross…” Nightmare started again, leaning extra close. “I would admit that I’ve grown quite attached to you as well.”  
  
“Y-y-y–” Cross stuttered, his arms and legs almost shaking. “You are?”  
  
“Yes,” Nightmare replied. He was still smiling, an almost sinister look still on his face, but Cross couldn’t even pay it any heed anymore. “As such… I hope you will forgive me for what I’m about to do.”  
  
Nightmare leaned even closer, closing the final bit of distance between them. He brushed his lips against Cross’s just for a moment, halting their movements in the blink of an eye.  
  
The song ended.  
  
“See you after the party, Cross,” Nightmare said, backing away.  
  
He was still smiling as he turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.  
  
Cross was left there, frozen and oblivious to the stares around him. He didn’t even react when Killer approached him from behind, giving him a pat on the arm.  
  
“Hey. May want to run, Cross,” Killer told him. “Some of these folks look just about ready to kill you.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Cross said, so quiet he could barely be heard. “That… that just happened.” He slowly turned, noticing Killer.  
  
“Nicer than he seems, huh?” Killer asked. “At least more relaxed.” He started to pull Cross along in a direction away from the center of the hall.  
  
“I’m so confused,” Cross mumbled.  
  
“Waiting for a thank you,” Killer stated as they reached the door to the balcony again. He threw it open, dragging Cross through it and closing it.  
  
“… fuck you,” Cross responded instead as Killer finally let him go.  
  
“You’re welcome, asshole,” Killer said.  
  
“I don’t even understand why you care about this,” Cross told him. “Are you really that bored?”  
  
“More or less. In any case, be thankful for my boredom because you don’t have the guts to do anything that involves talking to someone on your own.”  
  
Cross sat down on the floor against the wall. “Fuck off…”  
  
“You’re being awfully unappreciative of the person who ensured you getting laid tonight.”  
  
Cross’s face lit up again. “L-Like hell!” he snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, it has been so long since I've written Killer. You have no idea how much fun I had with it.


	2. Killing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, this ended up with a spontaneous continuation.
> 
> In the form of a Killer/Dream short, at that.

Killer let out a hum as he wandered aimlessly through the halls. After the events that had transpired earlier, Cross had consequently hidden himself in a cabinet in one of the sitting rooms, more unable to face socialization than he had prior.  
  
It had been what–another hour since that comical display from Cross and Nightmare? The party was still going on, and Killer was getting bored of tormenting people and eating. Nightmare hadn’t even tried to kick him out; that was how perpetually preoccupied he was. Killer continued on through the hallway, scratching at the side of his face as he contemplated what course of action to take.  
  
He was ridiculously bored. Maybe he should’ve just gone to sleep.  
  
Killer pulled off his suit jacket. He stretched, a loud crack accompanying his arms raised above his head and his back extending. Letting out a sigh, he let his arms drop and continued forward.  
  
He jolted backwards as someone suddenly fell from a large wall vent and hit the bookshelf below it. The bookshelf fell over, all of its contents loudly spilling out onto the floor as the person writhed on top of the mess.  
  
Killer stared at the one in front of him.  
  
A short yellow cape, bearing a dull color after countless years of wear. Black hair. Tan skin. Weird detached sleeve glove things. And last of all, a signature circlet and a strikingly similar face to Nightmare himself.  
  
Dream groaned, cracking open his golden eyes as he tilted his head back. His eyes widened as he saw Killer. Biting his lip, Dream waved nervously and smiled.  
  
“Eyo,” he said. “How’s it going.”  
  
Killer had to snap himself out of his own moment of shock before he could let the amusement sink in.  
  
“Well well,” he hummed, an eerie smile spreading on his face. “Look who’s here, of literally all places.”  
  
Dream grunted, sitting up slowly and cautiously, keeping his line of sight attached to the one near him. “Everyone needs to stop being surprised,” he said, hand on the side of his head. Pulling it away, he noticed the gold blood on his glove. “Oh, god dammit. I just washed these.”  
  
“Pity,” Killer said monotonously, rolling his head back for a moment before returning his gaze. “So, quick question for you, warrior of light or whatever the fuck. Whatcha doin’ here.”  
  
Dream flinched as Killer took steps forward. The light guardian’s hand was stretched out behind him, arm slightly extended, likely preparing to summon his weapon. Killer stopped in front of him, eyes dead fixed on Dream’s.  
  
“Funny you should break in at a time like this…” Killer said, tilting his head ever so slightly. “A time where there are so many people around, and Nightmare is so horribly preoccupied.”  
  
“What a ruckus it would cause if any fights broke out,” Dream told him, his extended fingers twitching.  
  
“Oh, you have a point! As if you haven’t made enough noise knocking a bookshelf over,” Killer told him, scoffing. “Yet, do you hear anyone concerning themselves over it? I don’t think you realize how far we are from the event already.”  
  
Dream narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?” he asked.  
  
Killer pondered for a moment, a look of intrigue rising on his face. He looked back over at Dream, who was entirely on edge. In a split second, Killer dropped his suit jacket to the floor, teleported behind Dream and slammed him up against a wall, pinning Dream’s arms behind his back. Killer produced a folding knife from his pocket, the blade flinging out with a swift click.  
  
Dream growled, glaring at Killer. He struggled fiercely, yet attempting to make minimal noise.  
  
“I’ve been so bored, you know,” Killer told him. “That party got lame after a while.” He leaned up to Dream’s ear. “But who knows. Maybe this’ll be more fun, after all.”  
  
“Oh sure, fun,” Dream said, letting out a huff of air. His hands started to spark behind him, briefly emitting a blinding flash of light. Killer instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, Dream lifting his foot up while this was happening and slamming it down with full force on Killer’s foot.  
  
“Ffffff–uck–!” he hissed, Dream taking the split second his grip loosened and breaking free. Backing away several paces, he unsheathed a short sword that was strapped to his leg and held it out in defense. Killer whirled towards him, smile twitching. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”  
  
“Fuck off,” Dream said, face scrunched up in disgust. “Have you been doing that to every person you’ve interacted with? You’re fucking mad.”  
  
“Well, I won’t deny that,” Killer replied, shrugging. “What happened to your sparkly weapons, by the way? Did your emotion gods ground you?”  
  
Dream sneered. “Really. It may be appropriate to mention that being unable to summon  weapons that actually work properly was becoming frustrating.”  
  
“How delightful,” Killer replied halfheartedly.  
  
He pulled another knife out of his sock–one that was twice the length of his first knife.  
  
“I’ll let you make the first move, Goldy.”  
  
Dream furrowed his brow, staring Killer down. His gaze briefly shifted to his sword, then back to Killer.  
  
“And if I feel like I have better things to do than fight you?” Dream suggested.  
  
“Maybe I’ll cry a little,” Killer responded sarcastically. “Anyway, you have five seconds to do something before I get bored.”  
  
Dream didn’t hesitate in whirling around, bolting off at top speed. He reached a fork in the hall, veering to the right and disappearing from sight.  
  
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Killer mumbled. “Guess we’re doing this, then.”  
  
He teleported, promptly appearing a number of paces in front of Dream, already knowing where he was headed. The guardian only had a moment to be surprised before he collided with the other, knocking both of them over to the ground in a masterful display, Dream’s sword skidding across the room in the process. Dream ended up sprawled out on top of Killer, holding his knife arm down with one of his own arms. It wasn’t entirely intentional, but it worked.  
  
“What do you want from me,” Dream demanded. Killer made a face of thought at him.  
  
“Entertainment?” he suggested. “Although, I still don’t think you’ve explained why you’re here.”  
  
“I like to check up on my brother sometimes,” Dream told him. “It’s a relief to know that he’s actually capable of socializing.”  
  
Killer was lax under Dream’s weight. “You sure have a small amount of belief in him for a guardian of hope,” he said.  
  
“As if that has anything to do with this,” Dream snapped. “Anyway, I was on my way out. If you’ll excuse me.”  
  
“Oh come on,” Killer whined.  
  
Dream glanced up at Killer’s armed hand for a brief moment. Killer let out a short hum, and before Dream could do anything, he bunched his fist up in Dream’s cape and pulled him back down by the front.  
  
“Do stay just a while longer,” Killer whispered. Dream could feel the other’s breath on his face, and his fingers tightened around Killer’s other hand. He narrowed his eyes.  
  
“I’m not Nightmare,” Dream told him. “You’re wasting your time.”  
  
Killer laughed out loud. “Oh please,” he said. “I don’t have a thing for your brother. Cross most definitely does, but not me. You, on the other hand…” The grip on Dream’s cape loosened, Killer slowly sliding the hand down from where it had been set. “You’d be so much more interesting.”  
  
“Is that so,” Dream responded flatly, letting out a huff of air through his nose. “I respect your forward nature, but fuck no.”  
  
“Why not?” Killer asked him. “Perhaps you could actually get something out of this visit of yours that became meaningless so quickly.”  
  
“Really?” Dream asked, clear disbelief in his tone. “I’m _not_ sleeping with one of my brother’s lackeys. Who do you think I am?”  
  
“Oh, shame,” Killer said with a sigh, sliding his hand around to Dream’s lower back. “I took you for someone who sees people for who they are as individuals.”  
  
“And you’re a madman with nothing better to do,” Dream retorted, reaching behind himself and attempting to remove Killer’s hand. “I can hardly believe people like you exist within my semi-necessary interaction field.”  
  
“But you see, here’s just why I like you,” Killer told him, bearing an almost sultry tone. “The way you _think_ , Goldy. So much more interesting than anyone else here. Well, except the great king himself.”  
  
“Is this supposed to be some shitty attempt at twisting my thoughts? Because it’s not working,” Dream told him. “Thanks for the compliments. I’m already implementing my practical thinking into making a practical decision right at this very moment.”  
  
Dream dug his fingernails into Killer’s wrist, which he was still holding onto. Killer clenched his teeth.  
  
“So that’s how you like to play?” Killer asked him, forcing a smile. “Me too, if you want, of course.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up and drop the knife,” Dream ordered. He reached up with his other hand and pried the knife from Killer’s hand. Killer’s other hand was still rested on Dream’s back, and without Dream holding onto it anymore, he didn’t hesitate to slide it further down.  
  
Dream threw the knife down the hall, far from reach. “Do you fucking mind,” he said, glaring at the other. He briskly stood up, looking Killer over for a moment. The other was still lying on the ground, now turned on his side to see where Dream stood.  
  
Dream slammed his foot into Killer’s side.  
  
“Jesus–!” Killer wheezed, rolling over as he clutched at himself. He started laughing hysterically.  
  
“Stay the fuck away from me,” Dream snarled. “I’m going to go check on my brother, and you’re going to keep your much-appreciated distance. Are we clear?”  
  
Killer rolled onto his back, tilting his head backwards and looking at Dream with amusement as the other started to walk away. “Who are you to order me around?” he asked. “I mean, you aren’t Nightmare, now are you?”  
  
Dream picked up his sword, sheathed it and looked over his shoulder. “I thought that perhaps you’d like being ordered around.”  
  
Killer’s eyes narrowed as a grin spread on his face yet again. He watched as Dream continued to walk. His desire to fight was gone–no, this was much more interesting than that.  
  
Killer held his hands up to the sides of his mouth. “Call me~” he yelled down the hallway.  
  
Dream flipped him off without looking back.  
  
“You realize the party is in the other direction, right?” Killer asked him, flipping over onto his stomach and resting his head in his palm.  
  
“Hallway loops,” Dream replied. “And there are passageways everywhere. Now fuck off.”  
  
Killer watched him as he left. Dream’s walking speed soon accelerated into running and he was quickly out of sight. Killer hummed, sitting up slightly. He looked down at his wrist, which bore small indentations from where Dream had dug in his nails.  
  
He stood up, brushing himself off. Looking over his shoulder, he let out a huff.  
  
“… Damn, where’s my jacket again?”

* * *

About an hour passed. The party had finally ended, yet in spite of the time that had passed, Dream was still in the castle, unable to make himself leave. To his relative fear, Killer hadn’t only not been lying when he said that Cross had a thing for Nightmare, but it was far more than Dream expected.  
  
Dream had been discreetly following Nightmare around, only to almost get caught. Nightmare was on his trail, and coincidentally, Dream ended up in the same room that Cross was apparently still hiding in.  
  
Dream had hidden himself in a closet, and Nightmare found Cross instead of him elsewhere in the room. Dream watched through the small crack in his hiding spot, seeing the interest in Nightmare’s initial goal diminish and quickly shift to the monochromatic one.  
  
Cross looked awkwardly horrified as Nightmare pulled him out of the cabinet where he was hiding with a blanket, a pillow and probably his phone. They exchanged only a few sentences before Nightmare shrugged, told Cross to shut up and mashed their faces together.  
  
Dream covered his mouth, which was twitching for a variety of reasons. He felt bad for Cross, worried about Nightmare’s intentions, but at the same time, Cross was kind of an asshole, so maybe Dream was more ambivalent.  
  
In any case, all of the feelings that Dream was able to sense from the situation most definitely indicated that this was more than a random encounter. Dream could hardly read Nightmare’s feelings due to the almost suffocating negative aura surrounding him, but if Dream could properly interpret Cross’s feelings, the monochromatic one was most likely in love with the other.  
  
The more Dream thought about it, the weirder it got.  
  
He heard Nightmare laugh, and in a split second, he had teleported away with Cross. Dream waited a few seconds before slowly opening the door of the small closet he was hiding in.  
  
So, that made Nightmare and Cross possibly a thing now. It was interesting, seeing as how Dream thought Nightmare was typically the opposite of intentionally flirtatious in any form.  
  
Dream felt like he should have been happy that–best circumstances considered–Nightmare found someone he liked, but it made Dream feel nothing but anxious.  
  
“Aren’t they cute?”  
  
Dream jolted, nearly emitting a small scream in surprise. Gritting his teeth, he turned his head towards the room’s entrance, where Killer leaned against the large doorway with his suit jacket on this time.  
  
“Didn’t I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?” Dream asked.  
  
“Still here, huh? You don’t suppose you’re overstaying your welcome, do you?” Killer asked him. “You sure are taking a long time to finish a simple check-up.”  
  
“I wasn’t welcome here anyway,” Dream replied. “Do you see that influencing my actions?”  
  
“So hypocritical,” Killer said. “You break all the rules you want and expect other people to just obey you. You do have a lot in common with your brother, don’t you?”  
  
“Do you have any business talking to me right now?” Dream asked, walking towards him. “I was about to properly leave, actually. If you’ll step aside.”  
  
“Why should I?” Killer questioned. He stood up from the wall, walking in front of Dream. “Make me.”  
  
Dream moved to the side, attempting to go around him. Killer moved over with him, still blocking the way. They repeated this process about three times.  
  
“What the hell do you want?” Dream snapped.  
  
Killer let out a hum, putting a finger on his chin. “Play a game with me, and I won’t teleport you right where Nightmare and Cross are so likely to be having the good time they are. See, wouldn’t that be awful?”  
  
“For the last time, I _refuse_ ,” Dream declared. Killer grabbed his arm.  
  
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Killer told him, a smirk on his face. “You have to escape the castle without getting caught, Goldy. Because if I catch you?”  
  
Dream narrowed his eyes.  
  
“I don’t need to tell you what happens after that.”  
  
“You’re fucking sick,” Dream spat, tearing himself away.  
  
Killer shrugged, letting out an amused laugh. “Better than the knife, now isn’t it?”  
  
“I prefer not to consider my options in these kinds of scenarios.”  
  
“I’ll give you twenty seconds to run,” Killer told him, smugly stepping to the side.  
  
“What reason do I have to not punch you in the face right now?” Dream asked.  
  
“One, two, three…”  
  
“God dammit.” Dream pushed Killer as he sprinted out of the room, knocking the other over to the floor as he left.  
  
He kept running, navigating through the hallways with his vague mental map he’d acquired from coming here so many times. He kept running faster, and after a while, he lost track of his rhythm and tripped over his own feet, slamming into the floor.  
  
“Fucking hell…!” Dream swore, pushing himself up and shaking his hands out. They hurt like hell, but he was so intent on getting out that he pushed through the pain.  
  
He wasn’t scared of Killer.  
  
He just didn’t want to leave the castle with the weight of someone’s possibly heavily injured condition on his hands. As messed up as Killer was, Dream found no joy in doing something like that and would rather run than engage in violence.  
  
Dream finally slowed as he reached a certain corridor, heaving breaths. He walked over to a wall, feeling along it for a line. He knew there was a passageway there, he just had to find it.  
  
He located a small groove and pushed it. The wall loosened, opening into a dark, stony cavern. Stepping into it, the temperature dropped significantly and Dream was left in darkness as the door closed. He raised his palm, summoning a small burst of light to act as a lantern.  
  
Dream recalled that this passageway led out into the courtyard. He just had to exit the castle boundaries, and his universe-crossing magic would work properly.  
  
He didn’t realize that Killer had seen him open that door.  
  
When Dream was a decent distance in, Killer quietly opened the door after him, stalking behind him.  
  
Dream froze as he suddenly heard a brisk ‘fwish’ behind him, indication of teleportation. He slowly looked over his shoulder, and there was Killer, already standing just a few feet behind him.  
  
“Better run,” Killer told him.  
  
“Oh, fuck you,” Dream grumbled. He turned around, dimming his light and sprinting down the rocky tunnel as quickly as possible.  
  
Apparently it was too fast, seeing as how he twisted his ankle after about fifteen seconds. It really wasn’t a good running day for him.  
  
“Shit–!” Dream almost fell forward, but he was grabbed by his wrist and prevented from falling. Whirling his head around, of course it was Killer. Killer pulled him in by that arm, bringing Dream close enough to the point where their bodies were touching.  
  
“Caught you,” Killer said, smiling. The light had gone out in Dream’s surprise, leaving them in the cold darkness of the cavern.  
  
“Look, I really don’t have time for this,” Dream told him.  
  
“I think you do.”  
  
Dream let out a slow exhale as Killer’s arms found their way around his waist. He glared up at the other, barely able to see him.  
  
“Time for punishment,” Killer whispered.  
  
Dream was about to raise his hand to do something, _anything_ , when all too quickly, the other leaned closer to him and gave him only a moment to feel breath on his face before he tenderly brushed his lips against Dream’s.  
  
… Tenderly.  
  
Dream almost forgot what was happening. He snapped out of his trance, pushing Killer’s face away with both hands. Yet, much to his surprise, Killer let go of him and backed away.  
  
“That’s all,” Killer told him. “Didn’t you know?”  
  
Dream’s face twitched. He couldn’t see Killer’s face, but he knew how smug his expression was.  
  
“Have a nice day, Goldy,” Killer said, waving. Dream cast a light, but Killer was already backing out of its reach. Dream saw Killer smiling, his tongue darting across his lips before he teleported away.  
  
Dream stared for a good five seconds.  
  
He shook his head, trying to ignore the fact that his face had grown hot, aggressively wiping his mouth with his arm.  
  
… He desperately needed to shut all of that out of his memory.


	3. Blind Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've had an inexplicable desire to make a Killer/Cross version of this story for a while now.
> 
> At last, it is here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two swear like sailors and Killer emanates hoe energy. Don't worry about it.

“This party is fucking boring.”  
  
Killer’s gaze drifted over to the one next to him, who was leaning into his hand and staring out into the room below them. Cross let out a dissatisfied huff of air, current emotion clear in his face. He and Killer were sitting on the balcony, snacking on whatever stash Killer had snuck up there.  
  
“I don’t even know why Nightmare made me come to this,” Cross continued complaining. “I could like, leave, and he probably wouldn’t even notice until it was over.”  
  
Killer made a face of thought, glancing over at him momentarily. “Well,” he started, taking a bite of a cracker with cheese on it mid-sentence and speaking with his mouth full, “maybe part of that is because you refuse to talk to anyone down there.”  
  
“Like I’d waste my time with that,” Cross grumbled, leaning down into his arms on the balcony railing. “Socializing is for like, social people.”  
  
“I dunno,” Killer said. “I’m not social, and it doesn’t bother me. In fact, I’m fairly antisocial.”  
  
“Ha ha,” Cross laughed sarcastically. “Whatever. Talking to people in this situation basically just means making repetitive small talk with different people for ten minutes max at a time. Sounds physically painful and lame as hell.”  
  
“What, you don’t want to try your hand at impressing some people?” Killer asked him. “I think you’d end up pretty popular based on your looks.”  
  
“My looks? Yeah fucking right,” Cross replied, rolling his eyes. “Like I’d want to do that anyway. I don’t live for deceiving people for fun.”  
  
Killer let out a hum, looking over at him, unimpressed. “You just really like making this boring. You’ve gotta dance with at least one person tonight since you’re here.”  
  
“Hell no,” Cross retorted. “I can’t even dance.”  
  
“You’ve never done it?” Killer asked him, an amused laugh escaping him.  
  
“Why would I need to?”  
  
Killer sat up, flinging himself forward to stand up from the cushioned bench. “You’re like what, twenty-four, and you’ve never danced with someone.”  
  
Cross turned around to face him, looking some mix of confused and irritated. “Is that not _normal_?” he asked.  
  
“No, dude. It’s very not normal,” Killer affirmed. “You’re like a new level of wallflower. Get your ass up.”  
  
Killer grabbed Cross’s arm, abruptly pulling him to his feet in front of him.  
  
“What? What do you want?” Cross asked him, trying to pull his arm away.  
  
“I’m teaching you in all of its basic glory, dumbass,” Killer told him, narrowing his eyes at the taller one.  
  
“Yeah, no thanks,” Cross said, pulling away and turning around. Killer walked over to the other side of him, and Cross turned his head away.  
  
“Come on, Crossy boy,” Killer whined, leaning forward just slightly. “What harm is done? Have a little fun.”  
  
“… If this is some trick,” Cross started, glancing back at him, “I’m gonna kick your ass.”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Killer replied, taking Cross’s hand. “Not this time.”  
  
They felt an odd rush as their hands touched.  
  
“I’m teaching you how to lead, so hold your hand like this,” Killer told him, manually turning Cross’s left hand sideways and placing his own right hand onto it.  
  
“No one is going to see this, right?” Cross asked him, standing on his toes to look over the edge of the balcony where, at such an angle, the floor was practically invisible.  
  
“Of course not, we’re in a blind spot. You can’t see them, they can’t see us,” Killer assured him with a little too much surety. “Now put your right hand on my waist.”  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
The current song ended, and a slow song started to emit from the orchestra accompanying the dance.  
  
“Perfect timing,” Killer said, putting his other hand on Cross’s upper arm. “Now, literally all you do is just move to the rhythm and shit, and those are the sheer basics of this.”  
  
“I have zero sense of rhythm,” Cross told him, narrowing his eyes.  
  
“Please. Saying you have zero sense of rhythm is like saying you haven’t learned how to use your nose.”  
  
“… how the hell is it anything like that?”  
  
They started to sway. Cross was staring down at their feet, trying to not somehow trip himself. He glanced back up, Killer smirking at him as he did so. Cross’s gaze quickly shot back down, his face feeling hot.  
  
“I think you can look up,” Killer told him. “How can you stumble if you’re leading.”  
  
Cross let out a bit of a grunt, willing himself to look back up. Killer was smiling at him, a smug expression clear on his face.  
  
“Aren’t you standing like, way too close?” Cross asked him, furrowing his brow.  
  
“This is _normal_ ,” Killer told him somewhat jeeringly. “What, are you _nervous_?”  
  
“Asshole,” Cross mumbled.  
  
Killer chuckled. They attempted to dance for a couple of minutes longer, Cross eventually getting the hang of it. Much to Cross’s dismay, Killer started to try and subtly pull them closer to the edge.  
  
“No, no, no,” Cross told him, pulling them back.  
  
“Oh come on,” Killer whined. “You’re doing such a good job, everyone should see it.”  
  
“Fuck off. I have actual dignity.”  
  
Killer let out a hum. “Well, whatever you say,” he said. “I suppose if no one can see us, then no one will see this.”  
  
Cross only had a moment to be confused before Killer pulled him down by the folds of his suit jacket and firmly pressed their lips together.  
  
There were several still moments. Cross was frozen in place, and even after Killer backed away, his reaction was fairly delayed.  
  
Cross finally stumbled backwards, going as far as dramatically falling onto the floor. His face was distinctly purple as he held a hand up to his mouth.  
  
“Did you–” he stammered, staring at the other. “Did you just fucking–”  
  
“Did I?” Killer asked, an ingenuous smile on his face.  
  
“W-why?!” Cross asked.  
  
Killer crouched down in front of him. “Because I like you, dumbass,” he answered flatly. “Why else would I be helping your sorry ass all the time?”  
  
“You–you did this on purpose–”  
  
“Or I just saw a convenient opportunity,” Killer suggested. He scooted a bit closer, leaning onto one of his hands. “Also, I have no idea how the blind spots work up here. Anyway, I know that no one will see this since it’s on the floor.”  
  
“Wh–” Killer crawled closer to Cross, who backed up slightly. “Hey, slow the fuck down–!”  
  
Killer pursed his lips, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“I’m–I’m processing a lot right now!” Cross told him, his breathing showing no signs of slowing down.  
  
Killer snorted, scooting up next to him instead and leaning against the balcony’s side wall.  
  
“… I don’t fucking get it, you know,” Cross mumbled. “You make no sense.”  
  
“I make no sense?” Killer asked him, turning his body with an amused look. “I’ve been giving you hints for like, the last month. You’re denser than a brick wall.”  
  
“Hints–? You act like this all the time to everyone!” Cross turned away in a huff, shoving his arms together aggressively.  
  
Killer leaned back, the back of his head against the balcony wall. “Everyone? You really don’t know what you’re talking about, Cross.” He placed a hand on Cross’s shoulder, leaning up to his ear. “You’re not very observant, are you?”  
  
Cross flung his head around, giving Killer some form of a glare. “See, you’re still just here to make me feel bad.”  
  
Killer shrugged. “All I’m doing is making observations.” He smirked. “Which you don’t.”  
  
Cross swatted Killer’s hand off his shoulder, turning his head away again. “… Fuck off,” he mumbled.  
  
Killer made a face, standing up and moving around to the other side of the one sitting next to him. Cross squinted, turning the other way.  
  
“You’re so immature,” Killer whined, leaning into his hand. “You can’t just leave me like this.”  
  
“That was _literally_ my first kiss, you asshole,” Cross grumbled, barely audible.  
  
“ _Oh_?” Killer asked, tilting his head slightly.  
  
“I… I was supposed to be in charge of that!” Cross continued. He let out an extended whine, burying his head in his arms. “God, why am I even saying this, you’re just gonna make more fun of me like the dickhead you are.”  
  
Killer was grinning next to him, his eyes wide. “You’re _twenty-four_ and you’d never kissed anyone?”  
  
“You underestimate the completely broken conditions of my entire life thus far,” Cross mumbled in response. “I dedicated my life to being a royal guard without even having much of a choice in the matter anyway.”  
  
“God damn. No wonder you’re so uptight and disconnected from what feelings mean,” Killer said. “You need to live a little.”  
  
Cross quickly turned. “I am not uptight–!” He stopped when Killer put both hands on his cheeks.  
  
“ _Live a little_ ,” Killer repeated.  
  
Cross closed his mouth, not moving a muscle in his position. His face relaxed somewhat, only his brow furrowing slightly. He let out a steady exhale, his gaze falling down slightly.  
  
He looked back up at Killer, some kind of conflicted look appearing in his eyes.  
  
Cross suddenly threw himself forward, sloppily mashing his lips against Killer’s. The floor below them made a resounding thud as they hit it, Killer on his back with Cross on top of him.  
  
Killer turned his head slightly, hands on Cross’s chest. “Jesus, you’re _hasty_ ,” he said, smirking. “You don’t even know how to kiss, what are you doing?”  
  
Cross narrowed his eyes and frowned. “How am I supposed to live if I constantly fear judgment,” he said. “These are the consequences of your words.”  
  
Killer’s eyebrows went up. “Damn. Then I’m not in a place to talk, I suppose.”  
  
“Damn straight.”  
  
Killer leaned up slightly, brushing his fingers along Cross’s jawline. “Doesn’t change the fact that you need lessons,” he said. “You can’t possibly expect me to sit through you embarrassing yourself. _Especially_ …” Killer brought his other hand up, bringing Cross’s head closer to his with sudden force. “… when it’s so avoidable.”  
  
“What do you mean it’s avoidable–?” Cross started, when Killer cut him off by shoving their lips together again. Cross emitted a startled noise as Killer swept his hands behind Cross’s head and pulled him down to the floor with him.  
  
“You know, this would be a lot easier if you were the one on the floor,” Killer mumbled against his lips.  
  
Cross’s face lit up.  
  
“… I swear to god, I’m going to have an aneurysm,” he said, his voice cracking.  
  
“Oh no,” Killer cooed. “Sounds like you need to lie down. _On a bed_.”  
  
“I will fucking murder you.”  
  
Killer sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop making fun of you.” He turned his head slightly. “Well, a little. But you know I only do it because I love you.” Cross’s entire face stiffened up as Killer booped his nose.  
  
“Somehow I doubt that correlation,” Cross grumbled.  
  
“So. Are you just gonna sit there and give yourself back pain or are you going to move?” Killer asked, tilting his head slightly. “Because I can think of a few things to make you move if you don’t do it…”  
  
Cross only had a moment to raise an eyebrow before he yelped, feeling Killer’s fingers suddenly grazing his stomach, sliding under his untucked shirt. He jumped backwards, his cheeks glowing.  
  
“We–are literally–!” Cross started, stuttering on his words.  
  
Killer sat up lazily, throwing his weight forward. “What?” he asked, leaning into his palm.  
  
“There are people _everywhere_!” Cross sputtered.  
  
Killer leaned forward slowly, placing his hands on the floor and steadily pulling himself toward the other man. “Oh yeah…?” he asked. “Well… that’s easily solved by simply going elsewhere, you know.”  
  
He held out one of his hands, a rather nefarious, wanting look in his eyes.  
  
“You want out of this party, don’t you?” he asked.  
  
Cross’s eyes darted between Killer’s and the hand reached out to him. If he gave himself a moment to think about it too much, he may have trapped himself in an hesitant, overthinking spiral, but if he was going to be honest, the tingling feeling that he still felt on his lips distracted him far too much, as well as the look in Killer’s eyes and the curled corner of his mouth.  
  
Cross wanted to throw Killer against a wall and pull his hair until he stopped looking at him with such an _obnoxiously_ condescending expression, but at the same time, god dammit, it was kind of hot, Killer was kind of hot, and now Cross’s entire body was pretty much burning up.  
  
He subconsciously lifted a hand, bringing it closer to the one extended to him.  
  
“You’ll have to pay for this later,” Cross said.  
  
“Pay for it how…?” Killer asked. “Do tell.”  
  
Their palms connected, and Killer’s fingers curled around Cross’s hand.  
  
“I’ll figure it out,” Cross answered.  
  
Killer emitted an entertained chuckle before the two of them vanished in the blink of an eye.


End file.
